To dine alone or bowl alone are events that blend strangeness and familiarity.
Yet, they, too, are entirely social. The export of one human mind to another happens in an instant. Apes are always burning toward an ambition of experience.
Psychology aside, we can ill afford to do nothing in spite of our paradoxical intention. The magnet cares zilch about the resistance — it wants the monkey mind to bounce right off it. We want to taste any sliver of the world we can get as if a hypnotist put us under.
To feel something, anything means we’ll dive into a flurry of notes. But to trade our minds with others that is the signal of the mysterious. Communicating through invisible wires, the critic stands down.
The ambiance is poetry in motion, a wild goose chase of similar circumstances and, even wilder, gluttony of appreciated differences. Everyone dines or bowls alone, together.